A Lost Echo

Part 3

When Poppy and Anderson Julius arrived at their home the following Monday, they were all smiles.

Eager to greet their only daughter they haven't seen or heard from in a week. Poppy's eyes displayed her anxiousness, even the brightest of smiles wouldn't be able to cover up.

Her husband did try reassuring her. Camilla was using their absence to her advantage, a way to live an average teenage life. She was hanging out with her friends and thought it was cool not to answer the calls from her anxiety ball of a mother.

So you could imagine Poppy's disappointment when she entered the house and called for her daughter only to receive no answer.

Even though it was Monday, it was way before school would start so surely Camilla would be there. Only when Poppy found her phone in her room with no sight of Camilla that she finally called her daughter's best friend.

"No, Mrs, Julius. I haven't seen Camilla since last Monday." Was Cindy's curt reply. Poppy could tell from her bored tone that she'd rather do anything else than talking to her now former best friend's mother.

"And you couldn't bother telling anyone? You couldn't call us or report her missing? Has any of her other friends seen her?" Poppy had a hard time concealing her tornado of emotions. Anger, worry, frustration and worst of all, loss.

"Look ma'am, Camilla isn't a baby anymore. If she wants to run away then it's her choice. And no, none of her other friends has seen around lately."

It was when Poppy's husband looked at her with a crestfallen expression caused Poppy to let the phone fall from her grasp and shatter to the floor. She covered her hand with her mouth, tears streaming down her face in a rapid speed. Anderson Julius' expression told her all she needed to know,"The police found her, pop." He muttered quietly, the words too painful for his own ears,"She was—she was in the water about to head further out to sea."

Poppy shook her head, the rest of her body caught in a frozen paralysis."No, no. Not my baby. Not my baby!" Came her broken cries.

Worst of all was that Camilla was there to witness it. Standing before Poppy, she reached out to touch her, to comfort her sobbing mother. She was hesitant, it would do no good so she curled her hand in a fist, stepped back and allowed her father to gather her mother in his arms while trying to hide his own tears of sorrow.

Soon her parents had left the house after Anderson told his wife that they were needed at the police station. The grim task of identifying their daughter awaited them. Not to mention the many questions they had to ask. Who killed her? Was it an accident? How did she die? Did she commit suicide?

Although the last question didn't leave Poppy's mouth, Camilla knew it was on the tip of her tongue. Her mother was so fearful for her. Always reminding her to take her little yellow pills in the morning which she claimed to be vitamins. Yet she wasn't worried enough not to leave for an entire week and ironically the last week of her daughter's life.

Opening her eyes Camilla found herself in the cold and cynical space that could only be called a morgue. Looking around the big room, only one of the dozen slab tables were covered with a white sheet. The rest were empty, allowing the artificial light to glint and almost blind Camilla.

Slowly following her parents as they were led to...well to her body, she wasn't sure whether she could stand the sight. It would be like looking into a mirror, the only difference would be that she was dead. Her mother stayed close to her husband, like a scared baby animal too fearful to step too far from her guardian. The medical examiner gave his empty condolences which, perhaps, once actually meant something.